Building and Breaking Boxes

“Who are you?”

A simple enough question you ask

At least simple on the surface

Because, really, you only ask

            Out of politeness

            Out of custom

            Out of a need to hear the answer you want

Because you already know what answer you want to hear

You look me over and see my skin

            Tan

            Sunburnt

            Pale as snow

And you know the answer you expect

            White

                        Western, maybe Eastern European

            Christian

                        Catholic, maybe Lutheran

            Female

                        Without question and always femme

            Straight

                        Because anything else would make you uncomfortable

So why do you ask?

Because if I were to tell you

My family

                        My history

                        My heritage

            Is more colorful

It would ruin the boxes you’ve already made for me

It would upend your understanding of the world

Because it’s not

            What you expect

            What you know

            What you’ve learned is proper

And yet, you still ask

What would you think if I said I was mixed?

            One white father

            One black mother

How would you react if I added

            One freed slave?

            One Choctaw princess?

            Polka-loving immigrants?

Which box do I belong in now?

            White

            Black

            Red

            Rainbow

But Rainbow suggests I break straight

            I like girls

            I don’t like men

            Or maybe only sometimes

And yet, that doesn’t encompass it all

            I like girls

                        But not to kiss

            I don’t like men

                        When they’re assholes

            And maybe only sometimes

                        I say, “Tie me up”

But why stop there?

Your projected Christian beliefs mean nothing

For Christ is to you

What Goddess is to me

And my Goddess is

            Loving

            Guiding

            Accepting

But these things you cannot see

            Cannot comprehend

Because to you Christ is everything

And without Christ you are nothing

Surely your last box is

Safe

            Unscathed

            Somewhere I fit

And most days I do

Femme, polite, well-dressed

            Ever smiling

            Ever graceful

            Ever witty

                        But only just enough

And then off days occur

            Bitter

            Angry

            Mean-spirited

Or self-conscious, self-loathing days

            Unclean

            Unkempt

            Tear-stained and broken

And femme, polite, well-dressed

Are the last things on my mind

So have I broken your boxes?

            Wrecked your safe world

            Destroyed your perception

                        Of the tidiness of people

                        Of the clear distinctions in society

                        Of the way our world works

Have I taught you not to

            Assume

            Judge

            Pigeonhole

                        Before you know for sure?

Or have you given up hope

Forsaken me

Written me off as

            An anomaly

            An Other

            “One of Those People”

Or now, perhaps, you’ll ask what I do

            And box me up in that way

For if I do anything at all

            Creative

            Non-traditional

            Different

                        It all makes sense

I can be written off as

            An Artist

            A Hippie

            “One of Those People”

And if I do something practical like

            Marketing

            Managing

            Mothering

I also suddenly make sense

            Provided you forget everything else

And yet this cycle is unending

Questions will follow until

            Eventually

                        I fit neatly into boxes

                                    Even if I have to be edited first

So the question remains

“Who are you?”

To save us the trouble and time

I give my name

I give my common acquaintance

            If any

And I leave it at that

And you will box me up in your once over

            White

            Christian

            Female

            Straight

And there I will live in your mind

Until one day you discover I’m not

            At least on occasion

And when that happens

Who I am

Becomes more complex than you made it

When you learn that

Maybe you’ll be ready to

            Break down your boxes

            Expand your horizon

            Understand something different

                        Complex

Or maybe

            You’ll just build new boxes